


Branded

by Gort



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (kind of), A jail cell, A lot of hats, Alternate Universe - Western, Deputy Bobbi Morse, F/M, Gun Violence, Outlaw Hunter, a bathtub - Freeform, background fitzsimmons, background mackelena, cattle rustling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: Deputy Bobbi Morse always suspected her estranged husband would end up behind bars, but she never thought Lance Hunter would land in her jail for something as serious as cattle rustling, no matter what the local rancher claims. Two days is all she has to prove his innocence, and it might just be enough time to repair a marriage, too.Beta'd by sunalso!
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse
Comments: 64
Kudos: 17





	1. A Posse

“If I didn’t know any better,” Mack said, “I’d say you were angling for my job.”

Bobbi jerked her head up to find him lounging against the doorframe of the cramped sheriff’s office, a mug in his hand. The silver star on his chest gleamed in the grey morning light.

She leaned back in her chair and kicked her boots up on her desk, careful not to muss the piles of Wanted bills she’d been sorting through. “You know I’m not about to go around making nice with everyone in this town.” She hid a yawn behind her hand and patted her deputy badge. “I’ll leave that to you, boss.”

“Gee, thanks,” Mack said, his gaze flicked to her desk. “Anything new?” His tone was casual, but she knew what he was really asking.

“Nope,” she said, lifting one shoulder. “Guess he hasn’t gotten caught yet.” 

“Or he’s staying out of trouble.”

She snorted. “Please, we both know he’s incapable of that.”

“Barbara-” Mack sighed, only to be interrupted by the pounding of horse hooves heading in their direction. He frowned and set his mug on her desk before grabbing a shotgun from the rack by the door and peering out the window. The coffee smelled strong and bitter, just the way she liked it.

“Who is it?” Bobbi asked, swinging her legs to the floor and dropping a hand to the gun on her belt.

“Garrett,” Mack said, unable to hide the disgust in his voice.

“Shit,” she sighed. “Like I said, better you than me.”

Relaxing back in her chair, Bobbi snagged the mug of coffee he’d abandoned and took a swig. It was fresh and piping hot, with a hint of spice. Elena made amazing coffee. She also served liquor that could strip paint off the side of a barn, and that, combined with her flair for cards, made her gambling house the most popular place in the town of Shield.

Mack spent a lot of his evenings there, ostensibly to keep the peace, though he wasn’t fooling anyone as to the real reason. Elena seemed just as smitten with him, and Bobbi bet it wouldn’t be too long before they tied the knot.

Her marriage might have ended in disaster, but it hadn’t been all bad. Six months alone had tempered the sharp edges of her memories, letting the sweet moments shine through. Urgent kisses in the dark and quiet mornings in bed. Laughter, loud and warm, filling the little house they’d made a home. Now it was just her and the stray cat who’d taken a liking to sleeping under the sofa.

Even knowing how it would turn out, though, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t do it all over again.

The horse slowed and Mack leaned the shotgun against the wall as he stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk. “Morning, John,” he said. Bobbi watched through the office window, curious as to what brought the rancher into town so early.

“Sheriff,” John Garrett said, swinging down from the saddle.

Two men on either side of him stayed put, their horses huffing as they caught their breath, plumes of moisture rising in the cool air. Bobbi had always liked this time of the day. The dusty roads were quiet, and what few townsfolk were out she knew by name. The sunrise gleamed gold off the mountain peaks to the west, still topped with snow. They’d gotten a spring flurry last week, and the chill hadn’t quite dissipated.

“What brings you here so early?” Mack asked.

“Rustlers,” Garrett spat.

Mack frowned. “Someone’s stealing your cattle?”

“They sure as hell tried. Now, are you going to do something about it?”

Bobbi stood and moved to the doorway. “What do you mean, tried?” she asked.

He tipped the brim of his genuine felt hat that cost more than she made in a month. “Deputy Morse,” he said, somehow making it sound like an insult. “I mean they must have had rocks for brains, thinking an operation the size of mine wouldn’t have some protection. One’s dead, but the other’s still out there.”

“You’ve got a dead man on your ranch,” Mack said flatly.

“Did you not just hear me say he was a damn thief?” Garrett snarled. “I thought you were supposed to protect law-abiding citizens, not the local riffraff.” He gestured in the direction of Elena’s gambling house, and Mack stiffened.

“Where is he?” Bobbi interrupted. Garrett might be mean as a snake and half as smart, but he employed a good chunk of the town. He had leverage and he knew it.

“Dead one’s where we left him.” Garrett shrugged. “Thought I’d come let you know we’re tracking the other one down this morning. He took at least one slug, so he can’t have gotten far.”

Mack narrowed his eyes. “You and your men are welcome to join my posse, but we’re bringing him in alive.”

Garrett spat a stream of tobacco juice on the boards near Mack’s feet.

Mack crossed his arms and didn’t budge. “Killing him now is murder, and I’ll treat it as such.”

“Fine,” Garrett finally grumbled.

“Good. Now, why don’t you have one of your men help the coroner collect the body and you can come inside and tell me exactly what happened.”

Bobbi let her hand slip off her gun as Garrett’s men dismounted, clearly disappointed. 

“Why don’t you go talk to Reyes about getting the horses saddled up, Deputy Morse?” Mack said.

She nodded and headed up the street to the stables. Looked like it wasn’t going to be a quiet morning after all.

#

Bobbi pulled off her hat and wiped her brow, squinting at the blazing sun overhead. The only hint of winter now was the snow clinging to the mountain tops in the distance. Mack reined in his horse next to her, looking unruffled by the heat.

“Where’s Garrett?” she asked. She’d spent all morning ranging out ahead, as far from that ass as she could get. Another perk of being a deputy was not having to listen to rich men brag. She would have shot him by now just to give him something else to talk about. 

“Went to check on his cattle.”

She grinned and settled her hat back on her head. “Hey, how much are they worth again?”

“Shut up,” Mack grumbled. “You seen anything?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. If they winged him, it must not have been too bad.” They rode in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the steady thump of their horse’s hooves as they climbed into the foothills. “Garrett mention why he’s grazing his summer range already? Been plenty of rain this year.”

“You noticed that too, huh?” Mack steered his horse around a stunted pine that marked the beginning of the tree line and came to a halt. “Said he had a good calving season.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a better man,” she said dryly.

He chuckled and tipped his hat back to check the position of the sun. “Let’s see if we can ID the dead man when we get back to town, maybe look up his known associates.”

“Sounds good,” Bobbi said. She turned her head in time to catch a gleam bouncing off one of the rocks in the distance, and her whole body went on alert. “Mack,” she said, reaching for her rifle.

“Spot something?”

She kept her eyes trained on the rock formation the glare had come from. It might be nothing. Or an ambush.

“Maybe. You go that way,” she jerked her chin in one direction. “I’ll circle around.”

“Watch yourself,” Mack said.

“You too.”

She urged her horse down into a nearby gully and dismounted, looping his reins around a spindly cottonwood. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, giving him a pat. He nickered softly and began inspecting a budding bush for edibility. Slowly, she made her way along the wash, checking her progress every so often to make sure she was heading the right way. The desert was beginning to come alive. Green leaves growing on gnarled, stunted trees and wildflowers pushing up through the dirt for their brief but glorious moment in the sun. It made for a beautiful landscape and good cover.

The backside of the rock formation came into view—along with a couple of outstretched legs. Quietly, she crept across the open ground between her and the suspect, her rifle trained on him. He might be injured, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Slowly, more of him came into view. He was on his belly, clearly keeping an eye out for her. The chaps he had on were dusty brown leather, and his hat was nearly the same color. If it weren’t for the gleaming revolver in his hand, she might not ever have spotted him. He had it aimed at the gully where she’d left her horse.

He’d picked a good spot to stand his ground. She could see nearly the whole valley from here, and the rocks were great protection. If he weren’t a damn cattle thief, she’d almost be impressed.

Bobbi halted a few feet from his position. “Drop the gun,” she ordered.

He rolled over more swiftly than she was expecting, exposing a rusty red bloodstain under his left shoulder and a face she knew almost as well as her own.

“Hunter?” she asked, staring down at the man she once thought she’d spend the rest of her life with.

“Hello, darlin’,” Hunter rasped. “Christ, am I glad to see you.”


	2. A Prisoner

“Well, the doc said you’ll live.” Bobbi leaned up against the wall outside the lone jail cell, trying to keep the relief out of her voice.

The back of the sheriff’s office was nigh on claustrophobic, with one tiny window set high in the wall opposite the prisoner cell, and a lone stool in the corner for visitors. The walls were sturdy, thick, and plastered from the outside with inches of clay. It kept the place cool, and their temporary wards safe from any mob justice.

She didn’t think they’d have to worry about that this time, since Hunter, despite his brushes with the law, had always been more popular with the townsfolk than Garrett ever would be. Still, it helped her breathe easier.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Hunter murmured.

He was sprawled out on a tiny bunk in the cell with what looked like an entire pharmacy’s worth of bandages wrapped around his shoulder. The rest of his chest was bare, and while it certainly wasn’t something she hadn’t seen before; it’d been long enough that she felt justified in making extra sure he hadn’t changed overmuch. His cavalier attitude toward life was obviously the same. It drove her crazy, in all senses of the word, and had been the main point of contention in their marriage.

The way he’d slumped against her back on the ride to town had worried her enough to supersede the anger at finding him hiding in the hills, officially an accused cattle thief. Her estranged husband had never been good at keeping himself out of trouble, but it’d always been the kind he could talk himself back out of again.

This time, though, he’d crossed the line. Garrett wasn’t one for mercy, and the law wasn’t kind to rustlers.

“You want to tell me why you were stealing Garrett’s cattle?”

“Not especially,” he said.

“Mack’s sending for the marshal.”

“Good for him.”

Bobbi let out a frustrated growl. “What the hell is wrong with you!”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” He yawned and tugged his hat down to cover his eyes. “Get the lamp when you’re done?”

“Do you understand how much trouble you’re in? This is a hanging offense!”

“Got it,” he said, his tone bored. “Heaps of trouble.”

Throwing up her hands, Bobbi stomped away, deliberately not turning the lantern down in the slightest. She’d use up a week’s worth of kerosene in two days, but it’d be worth it.

Slamming the heavy door shut between the cell and the main office, she locked it and spun around, hands on her hips.

“How’s Hunter?” Mack asked, looking up from his desk.

“Infuriating, reckless, still ornery as hell,” she snarled.

The corners of Mack’s mouth twitched. “I assume he’ll live, then.”

Bobbi sighed and dropped into her desk chair. “For now.”

Mack set down his pen and folded his hands, his expression serious. “Barbara, you know I can’t play favorites. The law’s the law, and these are felony charges.”

“I know.” She stared up at the ceiling to avoid his sympathetic gaze. “It’s just…something’s not sitting right. He left for Chicago six months ago, but now he’s skulking around trying to steal cattle right under my nose? And why? For the money? There’s a dozen things in our house he could sell without risking his neck.”

Frowning, Mack leaned back in his chair. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Bobbi said flatly. “He’s not talking.”

“You think he’ll at least tell us who the dead man is? I’d hate to see another unmarked grave.”

“Maybe you can knock some sense into him.”

“We are talking about Hunter, right?”

“You could at least try!”

“You’re the one who married him.”

“And you didn’t even try to talk me out it. Some friend you are.” Bobbi swept up the Wanted bills, stuffing them in her desk drawer. At least she’d been spared seeing him turn up on one of those.

Mack rolled his eyes. “Please, you listen about as well as he does.” 

She rubbed her temple, trying to chase away the beginnings of a headache. All day in the sun and the surprise appearance of her wayward husband were not a great combination. “Fine, I’ll ask about the accomplice when I take him supper. I wouldn’t expect much, though.”

“Look on the bright side. Maybe you can get that divorce you’ve been wanting.” Mack went back to his letter.

Bobbi’s stomach dropped. “Maybe,” she said, the word sticking in her throat. How had it come to this? She’d loved Hunter more than she’d thought it possible to love another person, and believed he’d felt the same. Hell, she still loved him, as inadvisable as that was, but six months of silence after he’d lit out of town told her how seriously he’d taken their marriage vows.

None of that had anything to do with why he was cooling his heels in her jail, though. He’d broken the peace, and her job was to keep it.

The rest was just something she’d have to ignore.

* * *

“You need to eat.” Mack dropped two tin plates filled to the brim with something that smelled mouthwatering on her desk. The sun was long gone, and the lamplight left most of the room in shadow. Bobbi had been mulling over the possible reasons for Hunter’s ill-fated rustling attempt and coming up blank all evening. 

“Did Elena make this?” she asked, peering at the stew.

“It’s from Daisy’s,” Mack said.

She must look worse than she felt if he was splurging on café food for her and their sole prisoner. “Thanks, Mack.”

He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Sure you’re alright taking the overnight shift?”

“It’s not the first night we’ve spent at odds.”

“I’ll be back at sunrise to spell you for a little shut-eye. Letter went out on the afternoon stage to Carson City, so the marshal should be here in a couple of days. You remember Coulson, he does good work.” 

She nodded automatically. A fair trial was the best she could hope for, but if Hunter didn’t bother to explain himself, there’d be no defense to mount, and juries didn’t take kindly to rustlers.

“Don’t forget we need that name,” Mack said, settling his hat on his head.

“I won’t. Say hi to Elena for me.”

“Will do.” He touched the brim of his hat and headed out, closing the door firmly behind him. She got up to draw the curtains and throw the deadbolt, another deterrent against any frontier vengeance, though they hadn’t heard a peep from Garrett. That in itself was a little odd since he loved to make everything about him and in this case, he’d actually be justified. Another observation that made no sense to add to the pile.

Sighing, she unlocked the door leading to the cell. Hunter was sprawled out on the bunk looking like he hadn’t moved since she’d left him. The cell door was next. He stirred at the sound of the lock turning, his hat tumbling to the floor. “Suppertime,” she said as he got his bearings.

She went to grab his plate and, after a moment’s hesitation, grabbed her own as well. Sharing a meal might make him a little more amenable to sharing just what the hell he’d been thinking. Hunter sat up, wincing, as she entered his cell, and she fought a pang of worry at the rusty red color of his bandages. He held his injured arm close to his chest and his hair stuck up in every direction, making him look far too vulnerable. Her frustration slipped away as quick and quiet as a late spring snowfall.

“Here.” She handed him his plate and then dragged the lone stool into the cell and perched on it, watching him attack the stew like he hadn’t eaten in days. For all she knew, he hadn’t. They sat quietly for a few minutes, absorbed in their food. Daisy had outdone herself. There were some vegetables involved Bobbi couldn’t even begin to name.

She started to put her plate aside as Hunter scraped his clean, and he glanced up. “You gonna finish that?”

Bobbi handed it over, propping her chin on her hand. “Mack was hoping you might tell us the name of the other man from last night.”

Hunter’s face fell, and he pushed the last bits of stew around the plate. “Idaho,” he said.

“He got folks somewhere?” she asked. 

Hunter shook his head and set the plates on the ground, wincing as he sat up again. “Don’t think he had any family. Izzy might appreciate knowing though. Isabelle Hartley.”

Bobbi bristled, a sour taste filling her mouth. “Izzy?”

He lifted his head, his gaze sharp. “Don’t start, Barbara. It’s not like that. And even if it were, you’re the one who threw me out, remember?”

“You tried to duel the mayor-elect!”

“There’s no way that vote wasn’t rigged!”

“Then you talk to Mack, or me. You can’t just fight your way through everything.”

Hunter scowled at her. “Nathaniel never would have risked his own neck.”

“No, but he’s perfectly capable of shooting you in the back!”

“Turns out he didn’t have to, since my own wife stabbed me there first!” Hunter’s hands had curled into fists, and fresh blood bloomed on his bandage.

“Hunter,” Bobbi said, standing up.

“You never want to hear my side of things!”

She swallowed a retort. Now wasn’t the time to relive their petty disagreements. “Your shoulder.”

“What?” He glanced down, frowning, and then poked at his bandages. “Ah, hell.”

“Hang on,” she said, picking up the plates. “Doc Simmons left a few things.”

Bobbi went out into the main office and exchanged the empty plates for a handful of gauze and cotton, hoping she wouldn’t have to bring in the doctor again. After a moment’s debate, she unbuckled her gun belt and tucked it into the drawer of her desk, then plucked off her deputy star.

Hunter felt well enough to argue with her, that was a good sign. With a belly full of food and a good night’s sleep, he’d probably be back to his old self: pigheaded, temperamental, and charming enough to make her overlook those first two. Maybe, if she played her cards right, he’d even give her an explanation for the mess he was in.

A girl could dream.

Sighing, she headed back to the cell, making sure to lock the heavy door between them and the main office. This might take a little time, and she needed him to realize how serious his situation was. The law wasn’t a game, it was her livelihood, and no bouquet of wildflowers or pretty trinket was going to fix his troubles this time. He’d pushed boundaries in the past, but she would have sworn on her mama’s grave that he wasn’t the kind of man who’d take what didn’t rightfully belong to him. She’d also thought when he came back to town, it’d be for her, not a few head of cattle.

Wrong on both counts.

She weighed the key in her palm and then peeked at Hunter, who was sitting on the edge of his bunk and fussing with the bandages on his shoulder. His eyes, though, were on her hands. Slowly, she bent down and made a show of tucking the key into her boot, gratified to see his gaze wander a little bit.

“Here,” she straightened up and entered his cell, dumping the clean bandages on the stool she’d been using before turning her attention to his stained on. “Let me help.”

Miraculously, after a moment’s hesitation, he did. She settled on the bunk next to him, close enough to smell the lavender soap Jemma liked to use when she tended her patients. She claimed it calmed them as well as helped them heal and based on her success, Bobbi wasn’t about to argue. Besides, it was a sight better than what Hunter had smelled like when she’d first brought him in.

Carefully, Bobbi began to the process of peeling away the stained bandages, wincing when he did and trying to be as gentle as possible. The bullet had gone straight through his shoulder, so at least Jemma hadn’t had to dig it out, but taking a slug like that was nothing to sneeze at. His skin was warm under her fingertips, but not hot, and she was gratified to see the edges of his wound were pink instead of an angry red. She slid a hand along his bicep, turning him so she could check the rest of his shoulder, and Hunter obediently shifted.

“Looks alright,” she murmured, the feel of his skin evoking memories better left buried, especially under the current circumstances. His hand has somehow migrated to her knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric.

“Doesn’t feel alright,” he grumbled, but he didn’t pull away.

“Well, maybe next time try not getting shot,” she said. The shoulder under her hand tensed, and she let out a sigh, attempting to curb her tongue. “If you want to talk, I will listen, you know.”

He snorted. “To your no-good rustling husband? You sure there’s not some sort of law against it?”

Bobbi smiled despite herself. “Probably, but this seems like more of an ‘in sickness and in health’ situation.” The muscles under her hand relaxed, and Hunter leaned into her touch. “You were supposed to be in Chicago,” she whispered.

“Didn’t make it,” he said as she picked up the fresh bandages. “Got as far as Elko and…” He cleared his throat. “Been thinking about you, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” Bobbi said, all the hurt flooding back. She pressed the gauze against his wound a little harder than she meant to and he drew in a breath, the air hissing through his teeth. “Sorry,” she murmured, stroking the uninjured part of his shoulder until the grip on her knee loosened.

“Gentler than Simmons,” he chuckled. “She still mad about her mother’s clock?”

“Actually, she’s been getting an awful lot of letters from the clockmaker in St. Louis she sent it to for repairs,” Bobbi said, winding the bandages around his shoulder to keep the gauze in place. “So forgiveness might be on the horizon.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes as she finished up, tucking the ends securely. She smoothed a hand over it when she finished and Hunter reached up to thread their fingers together. “Not really her forgiveness I’m hoping for,” he said softly.

Her heart did a flip in her chest. “Hunter, I can’t,” she began, but he shook his head.

“I know I made a mess of things, but I swear, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Then tell me what’s really going on,” she said, exasperation seeping into her tone.

His eyes narrowed, the lamplight throwing his features in sharp relief. “What happened with Nathaniel?”

Bobbi pressed her lips together. “Nothing,” she admitted.

The hand Hunter had on her knee slipped off and she grasped his arm to keep him from pulling away entirely. “Trip should be mayor and you know it. How could you let Nathaniel get away with it?”

“I didn’t!” she said, frustration mounting. “We tried to set it straight, Hunter, we did. Mack confiscated the ballot box and we planned on taking it down to the county judge, but the boarding house caught fire that night. Half the place burned down, and Mack barely got out.”

“You know Nathaniel’s behind that, too,” Hunter growled. “Little bastard never met a problem he didn’t make worse.”

“We don’t have any proof!” Bobbi exclaimed.

“And that’s more important than setting things right?”

“It’s how the law works, Hunter, it’s how we keep things fair!”

“No, it’s how men like Garrett and Nathaniel rig the game,” he shouted back, clutching her arms like he was thinking of shaking some sense into her.

“I’m trying,” Bobbi said, her eyes locked on his, “but if I stoop to their level, I’m no better than they are.”

His expression softened, his hand coming up to brush her hair back from her face. “Always did love that about you.”

He traced the shell of her ear with a fingertip, and the low flame that’d been burning inside her all day sparked to life. “And here I thought you’d just finished telling me how much you hate it.”

“You’re not the law, Bob,” Hunter said, trailing his hand down her throat and along her open collar. His fingers caught on the front pocket of her shirt where her deputy star had been. “You’re more than it’ll ever be.” He cupped her breast and she drew in a shuddering breath.

“Want to show me what you’ve been thinking?” she whispered, her hand sliding down to rest on his belt buckle. 

“Not sure that’s what the good doctor meant by rest,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her jaw.

“Since when do you do what you’re told?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and deep. It soothed something inside her she hadn’t realized was unsettled, and she leaned in to capture his teasing mouth, their lips fitting together exactly the way she remembered. His arms settled around her, holding her close, and she pushed him back, mindful of his injury.

“How about I do most of the work?” she said, nipping at his lower lip.

“Christ, I missed the hell out of you,” he growled, fisting a hand in her hair.

She smiled, enjoying the feel of him under her for the first time in months. They had their problems, but this had never been one of them. “I missed you, too.”


	3. A Lead

Something scraped against the floor.

“Shoo, Lance,” Bobbi grumbled, trying to situate the pillow more comfortably under her head. It didn’t cooperate, and it dawned on her it was more a lump in the mattress than a pillow. Right, she’d fallen asleep in the jail.

“Shoo?” Hunter said, sounding entirely put out.

She cracked open her eyes to find exactly what she expected — Hunter, fully dressed and standing by the stout door that led to the main office with one of her boots in his hand. His injured arm was tucked against his filthy shirt and she made a mental note to bring him a fresh one. He’d left most of his things behind when he’d lit out all those months ago.

Yawning, Bobbi sat up, clutching the rough blanket to her chest. “I thought you were the cat.”

“We have a cat?”

“No, I have a cat.” Bobbi leaned over to fish her camisole off the floor.

“That you named after me.” Hunter looked smug.

“It turns up at my door occasionally to beg for food, sleeps all day, and brings me a dead mouse every now and again. What else was I going to call it?”

His expression turned sour and he turned her boot upside down, shaking it. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll never be good enough for the great Deputy Barbara Morse. Now where the bloody hell is the key?”

Rolling her eyes, Bobbi pulled on her camisole. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. What time is it?”

“Nearly dawn, why?”

Nearly dawn. Bobbi ducked her head to hide her smile. He’d slept most of the night beside her before attempting his escape. Maybe things weren’t as irreconcilable as she thought, even if he was still the most hardheaded man this side of the Mississippi. “Mack should be here soon to let us out.”

“I saw you put the key in your boot!”

“I slid it under the door,” she admitted.

“You locked us both in here?” He dropped her boot to the floor with a dramatic thump. “What good is having a deputy for a wife if she’s not going to help me escape?”

Bobbi pulled on her pants and stood. “Becoming a fugitive isn’t very conducive to proving your innocence.”

“Well, I can’t do much about that from in here!” Hunter snatched off his hat and flapped it at the door, but the relief she could see shining through his anger made her chest ache.

He hadn’t been sure she’d believed him.

“I know,” she said, stepping closer and using the same soothing tone that’d finally convinced Lance the cat to come in the house. Not that she’d tell Hunter so. They’d had their share of disagreements, and she didn’t always agree with his methods, but she’d never doubted his heart was in the right place.

Unbuttoning his shirt, she gently peeled it away from his injured shoulder. The bandages were a little mussed from their reunion last night, but there were no fresh patches of blood. His color looked better than it had yesterday, too. She’d have to stop by Daisy’s Café and get him something for breakfast. Based on the way he’d eaten his supper he’d been running lean the last couple of days.

“My arm is fine,” he said, scowling.

“It will be as long as you take it easy. Which is why you’re going to tell me what you’re up to.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Sometimes I feel like you were put on this earth just to frustrate the hell out of me.”

“Same,” Bobbi said, leaning in for a kiss.

Hunter obliged, cupping the back of her head and tugging her close, the fingers of his injured arm dipping into her waistband. “How much time do you think we have?” he asked.

“Not that much.”

He heaved a beleaguered sigh and shuffled back into the cell to plop on the bunk. “Fine, but you’re not going to like it.”

“I already hate this. It can’t get much worse.” He slanted a look at her and she sat down beside him, pulling on her shirt. “Please, Hunter,” she said. “For once in your life, trust me.”

He started doing up the buttons of her shirt, his brow furrowing. “I do trust you,” he said. “I swear, Bob, it’s the damn law I don’t trust.” 

She pressed a palm against his cheek until he looked up, his hands stilling. “Trust me to do my job?”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No.” She ran her thumb across the dense stubble on his cheek. “I can bring you a change of clothes, but I’m afraid Mack draws the line at razors.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “You didn’t seem to mind it last night.”

She wasn’t entirely successful at keeping an answering smile off her face, but she refused to be distracted, not when so much was at stake. “The cattle, Hunter.”

“They’re Izzy’s,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

“You know how Garrett drives a cut up to Elko every year?”

“To ship back east, yeah, I know.”

“Well, after his last run, Izzy found herself missing quite a few head of cattle.”

Bobbi frowned, trying to follow his leap of logic. “How do you know Garrett took them?”

Hunter’s face clouded over. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me, you never-” 

Mack’s heavy tread across the office floor signaled his arrival, and Hunter’s mouth snapped shut. Bobbi had a thousand more questions she wanted to ask, but at least she’d gotten enough out of him to start investigating.

“Barbara!” Mack called through the door. “Please tell me there’s two of you in there.”

“Sure are!” She heard the key in the lock and hastily finished doing the buttons of her shirt as she brushed a last kiss across Hunter’s lips. “I’ll poke around. Be good,” she said, stepping out of the cell.

Mack cracked the door to the main office open and she gave him a sheepish smile. Rolling his eyes, he handed the key over.

Hunter squinted at her suspiciously. “You like having me in here, don’t you?”

“No comment,” Bobbi said and locked the cell door.

#

Daisy’s Café was near to bursting, like it always was this time of the morning. Gingham curtains the color of sunshine hung in the front windows, and the scuffed wooden floor was crowded with tables and mismatched chairs, all occupied. Daisy had made the little two-story house the hub of the town, armed with little more than her prowess in the kitchen and a relentlessly positive outlook.

It was also where Bobbi had first laid eyes on Hunter, his back against the wall, and his eyes taking in the bustle under the brim of his hat. She’d made a note of the newcomer, thinking he was passing through, only to find him in the same spot the next day, and the next. Just when she’d become accustomed to his silent, watchful presence, he’d surprised her by joining her for breakfast. She never could recall exactly what he’d said, but the way his smile transformed his face was etched into her memory.

Shaking away her melancholy, Bobbi breathed in the scent of eggs and sausage as the proprietress herself sailed by to deliver plates of her signature breakfast.

“Bobbi! One or two?” Daisy asked, dropping the plates down in front of a couple of cowboys Bobbi recognized from Garrett’s ranch.

“Three,” Bobbi said, smiling gratefully. “Thanks.” The least she could do was treat Mack to breakfast. He hadn’t uttered a word of rebuke, but she was well aware that getting tangled up with a suspect, even if it was her husband, wasn’t exactly model deputy behavior.

“You got it.” Daisy’s cheerful smile was catching, and Bobbi found her spirits lifting. Hunter may be sitting in jail, but she had at least another day to delve into the goings-on at Garrett’s ranch before the marshal arrived. If even a little bit of what Hunter said was true, that rustling charge would look mighty shaky. “Pull up a chair if you can find one!” Daisy called, heading back to the kitchen.

“Deputy Morse,” Piper waved from a nearby table. “You can join us if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi claimed the lone empty chair before someone else could, nodding a hello to Davis. He nodded back and returned to the task of clearing his plate.

Piper leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes darted to the bundle of clothes in Bobbi’s hands, then in the direction of the jail across the street. “Heard about the excitement,” she said. “You okay?”

Bobbi lifted a shoulder. “Been better.”

Piper nodded, downing the dregs of her coffee. “Imagine so.”

“Hey,” Bobbi said, propping her elbows on the table, “You’re working out at Garrett’s ranch, right?”

“We were,” Piper corrected, hooking a thumb at Davis. “But this one got into it with the foreman yesterday.”

“Davis?” Bobbi asked, surprised. Of the pair of them, mild-mannered Davis seemed the least likely candidate to lose his temper.

“Some of the greenhorns were a little rougher with the stock than they needed to be. Ward didn’t agree, but you know Davis, stubborn as a mule.”

Davis glared, his mouth too full to argue, but Piper didn’t appear perturbed in the slightest.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone looking for a couple of experienced hands, would you?” she asked.

“Sorry.” Bobbi shook her head. “I’m surprised they let you go with all the extra work this year.”

“What do you mean?” Piper said curiously.

“Garrett mentioned something about a booming calving season?” 

Davis’s brow furrowed, and he pushed away his empty plate, exchanging glances with Piper. “Not that we’ve noticed,” he said. 

Bobbi’s heart thumped a little faster in her chest, and she leaned forward. “Did you work with the cut on the summer range?”

Davis’s frown deepened. “What cut?”

Piper poked his shoulder. “I told you Ward seemed distracted. Why the hell is he already grazing the summer range?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Bobbi sighed, slumping back.

Daisy appeared with three plates of food, dropping them on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said. “And I’m sorry about Hunter.” 

“Thanks.” Bobbi tried to smile, but the weight of everyone’s sympathy was beginning to grate. Hunter hadn’t always walked the straight and narrow, but rustling wasn’t his style, even if no one else seemed to believe it.

“Can we help you take all this over?” Davis asked, standing up.

“I’d appreciate it,” Bobbi said gratefully.

She gathered up Hunter’s change of clothes and waved to Daisy before snagging one of the plates and heading for the door. Her mind was a whirl of questions only John Garrett could answer, which was handy since they needed a statement from him regarding the rustling charge. Now she just had to convince Mack to send her out to the ranch while he cooled his heels in the office with Hunter.

Unlikely, but maybe the breakfast from Daisy’s would put him in a magnanimous mood.

“Davis, Piper,” Mack greeted as they entered the sheriff’s office. “Deputy Morse.” He eyed the bundle in her hand. “Wasn’t expecting you for a few more hours.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said evasively. Mack’s face told her he didn’t believe her for a second, but at least he didn’t call her on it. “I brought breakfast,” she said. “Do you mind if I-?” She gestured toward the back room with full hands. 

“You’d be doing us all a favor,” he said, tossing Piper the key. “Tell him thanks for the name.”

“Heard from Garrett?” she asked as Piper pulled open the door leading to the cell. Hunter was right where she’d left him, lounging on the bunk in his bloodied shirt, hat pulled low over his eyes. Despite his relaxed appearance, she knew he was listening.

“Not a peep,” Mack said.

Bobbi blew out an irritated breath. “Okay, you have to agree that’s bizarre.”

“We can’t investigate gut feelings, Barbara.” Mack pulled his plate closer and inhaled. “But if you’ve got something concrete…” he trailed off expectantly. 

She hesitated for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, and Hunter tipped the brim of his hat up so she could see the hope in his eyes. “Maybe,” Bobbi finally said. “Davis, do me a favor? Can you and Piper go over what happened on the ranch yesterday?”

Hunter got up and sauntered closer. “Witnesses?” he asked, peering past her.

“Not exactly,” Bobbi said. “But every little bit helps. I brought you a few things.”

“Deputy,” Mack said, drawing her attention. “I’m going to take it on faith I don’t have to check those clothes for contraband.”

“Got a stick of dynamite for me, Bob?” Hunter leaned against the cell bars, his lips twitching like he was thinking of smiling.

“Don’t start,” she said. “Or I’m giving your breakfast to Davis.” 

He eyed the plate appreciatively. “Daisy’s?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be good.”

Bobbi snorted. “I’m not expecting miracles.”

Piper let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh as Bobbi handed over Hunter’s breakfast and change of clothes. “I’ll just tell Mack what we know,” Piper said hastily, turning her back.

“Thanks,” Hunter said, his fingers curling around her wrist and stroking her skin before he took the bundle, holding it close to his chest with his injured arm.

“I need one more thing,” Bobbi asked, wishing she could unlock the cell and join him like she had last night, but she was already pushing the limits of Mack’s tolerance.

“I gave Izzy’s address to Mack,” he said, his expression suddenly somber. “In case she wants to buy him a headstone.”

“That’s good,” Bobbi said, pushing away her jealousy. There’d be time enough for her to learn who Izzy was to him and just how he’d gotten caught up in all this. “How’s the shoulder?”

He shook his head instead of answering, which told her just how much his injury must be bothering him. “What do you want, then?”

“I need a little more to go on,” Bobbi said as he settled on the bunk with his plate of food. In a perfect world, she’d let him tell the story when he was ready, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. With the cold light of day shining down, this whole fiasco felt heavier, more urgent. The marshal would be arriving soon, taking Hunter’s fate entirely out of her hands.

He stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth and chewed slowly while she valiantly held her tongue, trying to stave off her impatience. She could head the low murmur of Davis’s voice in the other room, and Mack’s occasionally interrupting with a question. Hopefully, he’d come to the same conclusion she did.

Garrett was hiding something, and between his uncharacteristic silence and the sudden dismissal of two of his best hands, it was big. All she had to do was prove it.

“Like what?” Hunter finally asked.

The knot between Bobbi’s shoulders loosened. “Do you know Izzy’s brand?”

His face cleared. “Double H Bar.”

“Barbara!” Mack called from the other room.

Bobbi glanced over her shoulder, suppressing a sigh. She had a lot more questions, but they could keep until after she got a closer look at Garrett’s cattle. “I’ll check on you later,” she said.

“Bob,” Hunter said quietly. “Watch your back with Garrett.”

“I will.” She stepped out into the main office to find Mack pacing. “Everything okay?”

“We need to go talk to Garrett,” Mack said, settling his hat on his head.

“We?” Bobbi asked, startled. “What about Hunter?” Piper relocked the door leading to the cell, and Bobbi gave her a grateful smile.

Piper lifted a hand. “We volunteered to watch him.”

“You volunteered us, you mean,” Davis grumbled.

“If I had to wait for you to come up with any bright ideas, we’d die of old age.”

Mack lifted an eyebrow, asking a silent question and Bobbi dipped her chin. She trusted them. Piper and Davis were good people, and as a bonus, they no longer had any loyalty toward Garrett. 

“Thought we could use a couple of extra deputies,” Mack said. “At least until the marshal gets here.”

“Do we get badges?” Davis asked, eyeing Bobbi’s cooling breakfast. She pushed it in his direction. Her stomach was too tied up in knots to enjoy it anyway.

“Yep,” Mack said, pulling open a desk drawer and tossing a couple of tin stars on his desk. “You’re on the payroll, too.”

“Keep the door locked,” Bobbi said, pulling her rifle off the rack, “And don’t let anyone in to see Hunter except me.”

Mack cleared his throat.

“Or Mack,” she conceded.

“Gee, thanks, Deputy Morse,” Mack said, his tone gently teasing. “Shall we?” He gestured at the door.

Bobbi grabbed her hat, pulling it low over her eyes. “Let’s go talk to a man about some cattle.”


	4. A Threat

Mack had been quiet while they saddled their horses, just nodding at Robbie as he saw them off, haloed by the orange glow of his forge. Although Robbie probably preferred that to their usual banter. He might not spare more than a few words for his fellow townsfolk, but there was no one better with horses. 

The road to Garrett’s was well worn with wagon ruts, the dirt packed down by the hooves of cows and horses alike. Mack’s silence was catching, and they were nearly halfway to the ranch before either of them spoke.

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Mack said.

Bobbi squinted up at the cool, cloudless blue sky, but it didn’t hold any answers. “Me too.”

“Piper and Davis didn’t give me much to go on, other than Garrett making some odd choices with his cattle. There’s nothing criminal about running your own ranch into the ground.”

“There must be something if he’s still doing as well as he says he is.”

“I’m not saying there’s nothing to find, but you’ve got to consider all the possibilities.”

“I know, but I’ve got to at least try and save Hunter’s neck.” 

“He say where he’s been all this time?”

“Elko,” Bobbi said. Mack shifted in his saddle, and she looked over sharply. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “With this Isabelle Hartley?”

“He said it wasn’t like that.”

“Any idea what he was doing?”

Bobbi’s chest tightened. “No.”

“Barbara,” Mack said like he was calming a spooked horse. “I know it’s hard, him turning up like this, but are you sure you can trust him?”

The Sierras, topped with white, loomed in the distance, standing guard over the valley and scrub brush just like they’d done forever. Over the years, Bobbi had found there wasn’t much in life as dependable as those mountains, but even when Hunter was driving her around the bend, he was trying to do the right thing.

“I do,” she said. 

He pushed his hat back on his head and let out a sigh. “Guess you better fill me in, then. I know you wouldn’t be dragging more people into this if you didn’t think something was going on. Did Hunter finally talk?”

Bobbi smiled for the first time all morning. Maybe they’d figure this out after all.

#

“Not sure what else you need,” Garett said, swirling the glass of amber liquid he held. Bobbi had never seen him do much around the ranch. He seemed to prefer leaving the hard work to other people, most notably the man standing quietly beside him, Grant Ward.

Bobbi eyed the foreman as Garrett talked, trying to read his reactions, but his face remained impassive.

“Statements from the cowboys working that night would be a good place to start,” Mack said, unruffled by the attempt to dismiss them. 

Irritation flashed across Garrett’s face and Bobbi suppressed a smug smile. He might be used to getting his own way on the ranch, but he’d never been successful at buying the sheriff’s office the way he had the mayoral race.

“Seems like a waste of time, when the culprit’s sitting in your jail and I’ve already told you what happened,” Garrett said.

Mack lifted a shoulder. “Marshal Coulson should be here soon. We can either get those statements now or he can collect them himself.”

“Coulson’s retired.” Garrett’s eyes narrowed, and he shot a look at Ward. Without a word, the foreman left the room. His heavy tread on the porch stairs out front was followed swiftly by the sound of a galloping horse and Bobbi peered out the window to see a rider heading toward town.

“Not just yet,” Mack said, ignoring Ward as he reappeared and took up his position next to Garrett’s armchair. “Guess they’re having trouble finding someone to fill his shoes.”

Garrett scowled. “Fine. Grant?” He gestured at his foreman and Ward stepped forward. “He was out there that night and can give you a firsthand account. That good enough for you?”

“Much obliged,” Mack said, dipping his chin and turning his attention to Ward. “Mind telling us what you remember?”

Ward shrugged, his hands resting just above the twin pistols on his belt. It was the sort of rig designed to be seen more than used, but the deadly reputation he’d carved out before landing the job at Garrett’s meant he shouldn’t be underestimated.

“Settled in for the night like usual. The cattle were pretty scattered after the storm, but the moon was out, so we could see just fine. Round about the time we banked the fire, the herd got restless, and I went to make sure it wasn’t some foolhardy coyote stirring them up. That’s when I saw the two rustlers.”

“On horseback?” Bobbi asked.

Ward glared at her, but Mack gestured impatiently and he finally answered. “On foot.”

Mack leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. “Little strange for a couple of rustlers to be on foot.”

“We would have spotted them if they’d been riding,” Ward said.

“Sure, because of the full moon,” Mack acknowledged. “Can’t say it’s typical of rustlers to choose that night, either.”

“Look, I don’t care why they were there, but I had every right to defend Mr. Garrett’s property.” Ward shot Bobbi a dark look. “Sorry I missed the second one.”

She ground her teeth together and her hands curled into fists. In a just world, she’d get a fair shot at him for the pain he’d caused Hunter. In this one, if she held her temper, maybe she’d get to expose him and his employer for doing a little rustling themselves. 

“If the man you’ve got in your jail is any indication, I don’t think either of them were particularly bright,” Garrett said, sipping his drink.

Bobbi’s blood began to boil, and she took a step forward, only to find Ward blocking her path.

“Is there a problem, Deputy Morse?” Garrett asked. His eyes glinted with amusement.

Mack shook his head slightly, and Bobbi followed suit, though she’d have more than a few choice words to share later.

“Been a while since I’ve seen Hunter around,” Garrett added. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. Except, of course, that he didn’t end up in jail sooner.” He gestured idly at Bobbi. “Must be nice to have the law for a wife.”

“If you’re implying-” Bobbi snarled.

“Thank you, Ward,” Mack interrupted. “If we have any more questions we’ll let you know.”

“Tell Coulson Ward’s available to testify,” Garrett said. “We don’t abide by any cattle thieves, no matter who they’re married to.”

“We’ll pass on the message,” Mack said, standing. “We’ll just-”

“We need to see the cattle,” Bobbi interjected. Mack frowned but didn’t argue.

Ward’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “What the hell for?”

“It’s best if we’ve seen for ourselves the stock they were after, so we can attest to their condition,” Mack said, settling his hat on his head. Bobbi’s fingers slowly uncurled. That sounded almost official enough to be believed, and judging from the look on Garrett’s face, he thought so too.

“That cut’s on their way to Elko,” Ward said.

“Go ahead and look at the rest, one’s as good as another,” Garrett waved expansively at the ranch outside the window. 

“Sure,” Mack said easily, but Bobbi heard what he left unspoken. Plan B it was. Those cattle hadn’t gone anywhere. Half the men who worked the drives were still in town. She and Mack would have to check the herd on the summer range—and the brands—themselves.

“I am sorry about your husband, Deputy Morse,” Garrett gave her a look that was all false sympathy. “Some people just aren’t worth the trouble they cause. If I were you, I’d think about moving on. Just burn those memories away. Fire might be destructive, but it can also be quite…cleansing.” His eyes bored into hers.

All of Bobbi’s senses went on full alert. “The man who left in such a hurry, where’s he headed?”

Garrett’s smile was pure malice. “Just taking a message to Nathaniel.” He drained the rest of his whiskey.

“Mack,” Bobbi said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

“Let’s go,” Mack rumbled, his eyes narrowing. “And Garrett, watch your step.”

“I always do,” Garrett said. “Thanks for dropping by.”

#

They could see the smoke as they got closer to town, deceptively innocuous white puffs rising over the rooftops. Bobbi urged her horse to a full gallop, leaning low over his neck. The sound of pounding hooves told her Mack wasn’t far behind. Her heart was in her throat as she headed for the sheriff’s office, the smoke taunting her for ever thinking Hunter was safe inside its thick walls.

Guiding the horse with her knees, Bobbi sat up as they rounded the corner by Daisy’s Café onto the main street, fear narrowing her vision. The smoke was concentrated near the back of the sheriff’s office, but she couldn’t see flames. There was time to get Hunter out. She wasn’t too late. She zeroed in on the fire, dismounting and leaving the horse to get himself home. He knew where his feed came from and Robbie would likely be showing up any moment along with the rest of the town.

On cue, the church bells began to ring, alerting everyone within earshot of an emergency, and Bobbi spotted Piper and Davis with buckets by the water trough. Smoke drifted from the alley between the sheriff’s office and the empty storefront next door.

“It’s the shed behind the store!” Piper yelled when she caught sight of Bobbi.

She tried to hand over a bucket, but Bobbi batted it away. “Where’s Hunter?” she asked, her stomach plummeting. They were out here, which left him alone. The sheriff’s office might not be on fire, but this was definitely a distraction.

Piper’s face paled, and Bobbi didn’t ask any more questions, mounting the steps to the sheriff’s office as Mack came galloping down the street.

“Bobbi!” Piper tossed something, and Bobbi snagged the jail key out of the air before charging into the office, only to pull up short.

Nathaniel was leaning against her desk.

Her breath turned to ice in her lungs. His long black duster was pristine, and his boots unmarred by any wear and tear. He looked like a parody of a real cowboy, but the gleam in his eye was deadlier than a rattlesnake. Smoke drifted in through the open front door, and he glanced leisurely in that direction.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snarled.

“I saw the commotion,” he said, idly picking up a half-empty box of ammunition. “Thought I’d check on your prisoner.” 

The key in her hand bit into her palm, reminding her that he couldn’t have gotten any further, and she shuddered in both rage and relief. She moved to the sturdy door leading to the cell and unlocked it before yanking it open.

“Hunter?” she called, not taking her eyes off Nathaniel. 

There was a short cough. “Bob? Please tell me it’s not this place on fire.”

“It’s not,” she said. “Sit tight.”

Hunter snorted. “Not much else I can do, is there?”

“He’s fine,” Bobbi said to Nathaniel through gritted teeth. “You can go.”

The corners of Nathaniel’s mouth turned up in a smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “Great. He might be a lowdown cattle rustler, but you know me, always looking out for the, shall we say, _vulnerable_ members of our community.”

She’d never been a fan of the new mayor, but right now, Bobbi was two seconds away from challenging him to a gunfight herself. “He’s been charged, not convicted,” she said stiffly.

“Aren’t you an optimist,” Nathaniel drawled. “Well, I’d concentrate a little less on harassing hardworking men and a little more on keeping him alive until the marshal gets here.”

“Get. Out.” Bobbi repeated.

Mack dashed through the door of the office and dropped his hat on his desk. “Barbara, where are the…” He stopped in his tracks. “Mayor Malick,” he said cautiously. 

Nathaniel nodded. “Sheriff, I was just having a chat with your deputy here.”

Mack’s eyes darted between them. “We could use all hands on this fire,” Mack said, opening an old wardrobe that’d been converted to hold extra rifles and ammunition. He pulled out a couple of tin buckets, handing one to the mayor.

Giving Bobbi one last bone-chilling smile, Nathaniel accepted the bucket. “See you around, Deputy Morse. Give my best to your husband.”

She didn’t reply, her body taut as a bowstring until he disappeared from sight. Mack paused in the doorway, and she shook her head. Explanations could wait. There was a fire that needed tending to and, more importantly, was demanding everyone’s undivided attention.

Stepping into the back, she unlocked the cell and swung the door open. Smoke hung heavy in the air, the single small window providing little circulation. “Let’s go.”

Hunter didn’t hesitate, just followed her into the main office. Locking the interior door again, she pocketed the key and peered out the front window. If she played her cards right, people would assume he was still locked away, but she’d get to sleep in her bed tonight. The crowd was congregating in front of the building next door, with a bucket line forming from Elena’s across the street.

“I’ll meet you at home,” she said, snagging his shirtsleeve before he could walk out. “Hunter, promise me you’ll be there.”

He planted a firm kiss on her mouth, his hand winding into her hair. “I promise.”

She watched him slip away, praying she’d made the right choice, and went to help Elena organize the buckets.


	5. A Bath

“Water’s ready.” Bobbi leaned against the door frame between the kitchen and the tiny sitting room, drinking in the sight of Hunter under their roof.

He straightened up, hastily setting their wedding photo back on the mantle, and whirled around, his face flushed. The way his injured arm was tucked against his chest, his shoulder hunched, told her just how much it was bothering him. His hair stuck up in tufts, and his boots had been tossed aside, but that seemed to be as far as he’d gotten in preparation for a bath.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“It’s more for me,” she said, crossing the room to angle the photo just right. She’d spent a lot of nights studying those faces, wondering how it’d gone so wrong. At the time, displaying the photo had been a punishment, but now she wondered if she hadn’t just been holding onto the hope that they might find that happiness again. While she wasn’t about to forget all the troubles they’d had, it felt a little bit like they’d been given a second chance.

Well, once she’d proved he wasn’t a cattle rustler. They never did much the easy way.

She settled a hand on his chest, sliding up toward his wounded shoulder. He flinched, though he tried to hide it, and she gentled her touch. “Not sure you’re in any shape for hauling water,” she murmured.

He’d been sound asleep on the couch when she’d gotten home just before sunset and hadn’t woken until well after she’d washed up and changed, pulling on a threadbare cotton nightdress. The flower print had long since faded to a shadow of its former self, but the soft fabric was a welcome change from her usual getup.

Hunter wrapped his uninjured arm around her waist and pulled her close, resting his head against hers. “You going to tell me what happened earlier, and why I’m not cooling my heels in a cell anymore?”

“Bath first,” she said, tackling the buttons of his shirt. “You smell like a cookfire.”

“You smell like roses,” he murmured, nose brushing against her temple. “Always did love that scent on you.”

She patted his chest and peeled off his shirt, mindful of his wounds. “I’ve got a chunk of soap set aside for you, too.” Frowning at the bedraggled bandage wrapped around his shoulder, she stopped undressing him. “I should have asked Jemma for some more gauze.”

“We’ve got a little bit,” he said, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Or we used to. It should be enough. You don’t need to wrap me up like one of those Egyptian mummies.”

Her fingers caught the edge of his soiled bandage. “I’ll go hunt some up. Into the bath with you.”

“Alone?” he asked, his lower lip sneaking out.

Bobbi didn’t quite manage to hide her smile. “If you recall, the last time we shared a bath half of the water ended up on the kitchen floor.”

“I do recall.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That particular memory kept me company on many a lonely night.”

She stepped back, her feelings all jumbled together in a heap, and Hunter’s face fell. “I’ll just find those bandages,” she said, her hands slipping off his chest.

“Bob,” he said, reaching for her.

She shook her head. “I’ll be right back.” Heading for the hall, she tried to focus on where they’d stashed their pharmacy supply instead of how right it felt to have him home again when there was no guarantee he would stay.

Especially if she couldn’t clear his name.

#

It took her longer than she expected to find the gauze and a few other things she thought he might need, but Hunter was still in the bath when she returned to the kitchen. His head rested against the wooden housing their tub folded up into when it wasn’t in use and his knees were poking up out of the water. His skin glowed in the dim light of the single lantern she’d lit, and when he opened his eyes, the intensity of his gaze made her own knees wobble.

“Hey.” She set his things on the tiny table tucked into the corner of the kitchen and pulled out a chair.

Hunter held out a hand and she took it, the warmth of his fingers from the water seeping into her own. The knot of emotions in her chest loosened a little. They’d shared so many breakfasts and late suppers together in this house, their legs tangled together under the tabletop while they laughed. It felt strange to have him here again and, at the same time, like he’d never left. Her heart couldn’t seem to figure out which was up, and she needed some answers. 

“Hey,” he said. “You found it?”

“I did,” she said, scooting closer. He’d started unwrapping his bandages but seemed to have given up halfway through. She carefully finished removing the damp gauze as he leaned into her, his arm draped across her lap and leaving wet spots on her nightdress.

“Garrett knows something’s up,” she said quietly. “He sent a man to town just before Nathaniel set that fire. It was a warning.”

Hunter sat up a little taller in the bath, the water sloshing against the metal sides. “Did you get a look at the cattle?”

She shook her head and peeled away the last bit of gauze, frowning at the angry wound underneath. Hunter had been within inches of being taken from her. He would have just been another body in a field, one of the notches in Ward’s gunbelt, and she’d have been left with nothing but questions. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. Slowly, she ran her finger along Hunter’s collarbone and down his chest, settling her palm over his heart. Hunter covered her hand with his own, soothing her with gentle strokes of his thumb.

“He claims they’re on their way to Elko,” Bobbi said when she could speak again. “Mack and I will find them.”

“I can help,” Hunter said. “I need to help, please, Bob.”

Frustration bubbled up inside of her. “Why didn’t you come to me in the first place? You said you trust me, but you couldn’t trust me with this?”

Hunter sighed, his head thunking back against the cabinet. “I was just trying to do something you could be proud of, for once.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You want to know why I couldn’t get on the damn train to Chicago? Because all I could think about was how many miles it was from you.”

Bobbi stared at him, his heart thumping steadily under her hand. Sliding off the chair, she knelt by the tub so she could look him in the eye. “You idiot,” she finally said. He flinched, but she plowed ahead anyway. “I’ve always been proud of you. I married you because of who you are Lance, not someone I wish you could be.”

He huffed out a breath as an inquiring meow emanated from the sitting room. “My replacement, I presume.”

“There is no one in the world like you,” Bobbi whispered, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips. “You might be the most infuriatingly stubborn man to walk the earth, but I love you, you know that?”

He brushed a hand over her cheek, leaving a trail of water. “I’m sorry I didn’t write. I just wanted to have something write about first.”

“A possible rustling ring didn’t merit a mention?”

“Idaho and I were just down here to get proof, that was all. Izzy said she knew someone who could help set things straight.”

“How’d you get mixed up in all this?” Bobbi asked, linking their fingers together.

Hunter ducked his head, trailing a hand through the water. “Might have been working for her at the time.”

Bobbi’s mouth dropped open. “On a _ranch_?”

“What?” he asked defensively.

“You always said you’d rather be caught dead than work on a ranch!”

“No, I said _Garrett’s_ ranch.” He frowned.

A disbelieving laugh died in her throat. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I just…it’s nice to have you home.” Her hand tightened around his, and he squeezed back.

“Even though I’m an escaped prisoner?” he asked, a flame sparking in his eyes.

“On supervised release,” she said fondly, running a hand along his jaw. “I brought your shave kit.” She turned to grab the things from the table, lining them up on the rim of the tub.

“Is this a hint?” Hunter asked, adding a little water to the soap dish. He picked up the shaving brush and winced, passing it to his other hand and tucking his wounded arm against his chest.

“Here,” Bobbi said, plucking the brush from his fingers. “Let me.”

He settled back again, watching her work up a lather with the soap. The scent of spiced rum filled her nose and set her body alight. She hadn’t done this for him often, but she’d always loved watching that familiar face reappear. The unkempt scruff was hiding some of her favorite things— the dimples that flashed when he grinned, the subtle cleft in his chin. She needed that proof that he was here, and alive and she could finally put down the worry she’d been carrying for the last few months.

Two years' worth of memories wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted a lifetime.

Like he could read her mind, Hunter reached out and traced the low neckline of her dress before tugging it down even further. “Think this might be my new favorite barbershop.”

She poked him with the brush, leaving a dot of foam on his nose. “No distracting the woman with a straight razor.”

“I’m not the one doing the distracting.”

Batting his hand away, she returned to the soap. “A close shave and you might even pass for respectable.”

“Sounds awful,” Hunter sighed, letting his hand fall back in the water. “Then what excuse would you have to keep an eye on me?”

“I can think of plenty.” She leveled a look at him.

“What happened with Jemma’s clock was an accident!”

Bobbi lifted her eyebrows. “How did gum, which, by the way, Trip immediately admitted he keeps in stock just for you, accidentally get into the inner workings of her clock?”

“Fine, maybe it was on purpose. But in my defense, I didn’t think the damn thing would keep running for so long! One piece would have been a lot easier to remove than a thousand strands.”

“What possessed you to do it in the first place?” Bobbi asked, exasperated. The lather was coming along nicely, and she leaned forward to brush a line of foam along Hunter’s cheek.

“You know what! The whole fiasco at the church. I needed an alibi.”

She paused in her brushing. “Tell me that wasn’t you.”

Hunter’s eyes widened. “Hand to god,” he said. “It wasn’t me.”

“Good.” She leaned forward to kiss him and he smiled against her mouth, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. His lips were soft and warm, and his teasing tongue added to the heat building inside her.

“You know,” he murmured as she pulled back, their noses brushing together. “It’d be easier if you were in here with me.”

“That would definitely be too distracting,” she said, swirling foam along his jaw.

“I’ll let you keep this on,” Hunter said, damp fingers trailing down her nightdress.

“Up,” she said, smiling despite herself. He lifted his chin obediently so she could run the brush along his throat. “And you’re getting me all wet.”

His grin widened. “That’s the idea.”

“You’re impossible.”

She leaned across the tub to get his other cheek, registering the tiny splash too late to prevent him from cupping her breasts through her nightdress. Water seeped through the thin fabric, soaking her front and clinging to her aching nipples.

Bobbi gasped, pressing into his hands, and he hummed contentedly, his adam’s apple bobbing under the white foam. The edge of the tub dug uncomfortably into her stomach, and, with the briefest of hesitations over the inevitable state of the kitchen floor tomorrow, she gave in to the need to be as close to him as possible.

Hunter whimpered as she straightened up, his head lifting. Setting aside the brush, she gathered the bottom of her nightdress in one hand and swung a leg into the tub. He barked out a laugh before helping her into the tub with him, guiding her knees to rest on either side of his hips.

The water level rose precariously as she settled on his lap, his arousal rubbing exquisitely between her thighs. He grasped the fabric slowly sinking in the water around them, pushing it to one side. “You’re not wearing anything under there,” he murmured.

“No,” she said, rolling her hips and making him groan. “Now hold still.”

The smile on his face warmed her as much as the water swirling around her legs. “Yes, love.”

She picked up the straight razor and slid a hand into his hair, tipping his head to one side. Carefully, she drew the blade down his cheek in short, gentle strokes.

Hunter closed his eyes, his thumbs drawing slow circles on her inner thighs until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Lifting the razor away, she circled her hips, her need for him nearly as urgent as the desire to make this last as long as humanly possible.

“Bob,” he rasped, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Up,” she whispered, her breath speeding up as he whimpered and tipped his head back to expose his throat.

Bracing herself against his chest, she carefully scraped the blade through the foam, revealing pale, smooth skin. Her breath was coming short and fast, and desire swirled inside her like the spring snowmelt, rising higher with each pass of the razor. She wiped the blade clean on a nearby cloth and Hunter’s grip tightened, but he didn’t move.

She leaned forward before starting again, kissing the soft skin of his throat and breathing in the clean scent of shave soap and roses. His hips jerked up under her and it took all the self-control she had not to abandon the task at hand.

“Christ, Bob” he gasped, his fingers inching under her soaked nightdress.

“Not yet,” she murmured. Sitting up, she put a finger under his chin to keep him from moving and set about shaving the other side of his throat.

A suppressed growl rumbled through his chest, and a delicious shudder ran through her. She moved to his other cheek, but her concentration was slipping, and her fingers felt clumsy. She shifted in his lap, heat rising inside her, and Hunter picked up his head, his eyelids at half-mast, before plucking the razor from her hand.

“I’ll finish it tomorrow,” he promised as he dragged her nightdress over her head and tossed it aside. 

“Tomorrow,” she agreed breathlessly, the cool air raising goosebumps on her bare skin before he dragged her in for a fierce kiss.

He twisted a hand into her hair and bucked up, drawing a strangled moan from her. Water sloshed over the rim of tum, splashing onto the floor, and a gurgling noise told her he’d managed to pull out the drain plug. He was definitely in charge of cleaning up tomorrow. She smiled against his mouth.

And then they had a rustler to catch.


	6. A Storm

“Good morning,” Mack drawled. “Nice of you to finally come in.”

Bobbi bit her lip to keep from smiling. “It’s not that late.”

“Later than you’ve been for a while.” Mack tipped back the mug of coffee he was holding before setting it on his desk. The rumpled blankets in the corner told her he’d spent at least part of the night in the office to give the appearance that Hunter was still locked up. “I’d ask after your husband, but I already know too much.”

“Hunter’s fine,” Bobbi said. “Any more trouble last night?” She jerked her head at the firmly shut door that led to the cell.

“Not a peep, surprisingly,” Mack’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Easiest prisoner we ever had. Sent Piper and Davis home for some shuteye late last night, they should be in soon.”

“No word from Garrett?” Bobbi asked, perching on the edge of his desk.

“Or Nathaniel,” Mack said, shaking his head. “Elena said he was in her place most of the night, playing cards.”

“Cheating at cards, more likely,” Bobbi grumbled.

Mack grinned. “You know she doesn’t abide by such things. Woman’s got a dealing hand quicker than a roadrunner.”

“Think he was watching this place?”

“More than likely.” Mack stood up and grabbed his hat. “Ready to give him a show?”

“You’re positive Coulson’s not on the afternoon stage.”

“He’s always preferred traveling under his own steam. Don’t see why this trip would be any different. It’ll go easier if I can find him before Garrett tries to bribe his way out of trouble. A wild goose chase ought to buy us enough time.”

“You think Coulson would take a bribe?”

“No,” Mack said. “And I’m pretty sure Garrett knows that, too.”

They stepped out onto the wooden walkway to survey the street, the air smelling of stale smoke and charred wood. The fire hadn’t done much damage, but the intent behind it had set Bobbi’s teeth on edge. Garrett wasn’t just threatening Hunter, he’d shown his contempt for the law and there was no way in hell she was letting him get away with hurting her husband or her livelihood.

“You sure Hunter’s okay to ride?” Mack asked, shrugging into his duster.

This time, Bobbi couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face. “I’m sure.”

Mack lifted his eyes to the overcast sky and heaved a sigh. “Why do I even ask.”

“You’d think you’d have learned by now,” Bobbi said, nodding at Davis and Piper making their way over from Daisy’s. “Here they are.”

Mack lifted a hand in acknowledgment and Davis waved back. “Good. Now we just have to do our part and hope Garrett doesn’t see it coming.”

“Lucky for us, Nathaniel’s got a big mouth.”

Mack smiled. “Yep.”

He stepped into the dusty street and Bobbi followed at a leisurely pace, waiting for him to hand the jail key over to Piper while they exchanged pleasantries. She made a careful survey of the surrounding buildings, checking for any unusual activity and finding none. That boded well. The longer Garrett thought his intimidation had been a success, the less danger Hunter was in.

“Mayor’s in there,” Piper said, drawing Bobbi’s attention. “Holding court, as usual.”

Bobbi made a face. “Where does he find all those jerks to listen to him?”

“Like attracts like,” Mack said, a tiny smirk drawing up the corner of his mouth.

“Very funny,” Bobbi said as Piper attempted to conceal her laughter with a fake cough.

“What?” Davis asked, his brow furrowing.

“Tell you later,” Piper said, steering him toward the sheriff’s office. “We’ll hold down the fort,” she said over her shoulder to Mack.

“Let’s go get ourselves some breakfast,” Mack said, heading down the street toward Daisy’s.

Bobbi fell into step beside him. A cool breeze prickled the back of her neck, teasing them with the possibility of rain.

“Thanks for trusting him,” Bobbi said quietly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her duster to keep them warm.

“I trust you,” Mack corrected. “But I also know Hunter’s a hell of a lot smarter than Garrett’s giving him credit for.”

“You think so, huh?”

“Married you, didn’t he?”

She ducked her head to hide her pleased smile. “True.”

“Been a while since I’ve seen you this happy. Just…I hope you’re right, Barbara.”

“After what happened yesterday, we know for sure there’s more than Garrett’s saying.”

“No doubt,” Mack agreed. “After this mess gets cleaned up, we need to take a closer look at Nathaniel and his new friends.”

“And the spate of fires we’ve been having,” Bobbi grumbled.

Mack stopped in front of Daisy’s and pushed his hat back to peer at the sign hanging from the eaves. The name of the café was spelled out in the same yellow as the curtains in the windows, but the paint was faded and cracked and the once-elaborate letters were more of a suggestion than recognizable words. “Thought she was having that fixed up.”

“She’s been real busy lately,” Bobbi said, pulling open the door. “Maybe it just slipped her mind.”

“Maybe.” Mack pulled off his hat as they entered the buzzing café, and grinned when Daisy spotted them.

“Sit while you can,” she called, whisking empty plates off a nearby table. It was in a prime location. Just far enough from Nathanial to appear nonchalant, and close enough for him to overhear their conversation. Piper and Davis were turning out to be a pair of excellent deputies.

Mack settled into a chair and Bobbi joined him, her stomach rumbling at the scents emanating from the kitchen. “The usual?” Daisy asked, plunking two mugs of coffee down.

“Please,” Mack said. Before she could disappear again, he reached out to touch her arm. “Hey, what happened to sending that old thing out front off to the sign maker?”

Uncertainty flashed across her face, and Bobbi stiffened as Daisy’s eyes darted in the direction of the mayor’s table. From the way Mack’s eyes narrowed, he hadn’t missed that either. “Just haven’t had time, I guess,” Daisy said, lifting a shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared and Mack leaned back in his chair. “You notice the mayor flashing a lot of cash around lately?” he murmured.

“Yep,” Bobbi muttered back.

“Getting mighty tired of certain folks thinking they own this town.”

“Amen,” Bobbi said, picking up one of the mugs.

“Thanks, Daisy,” Mack said as she slid a couple of full plates in front of them. He raised his voice slightly, so it’d carry over the din. “Just what we need before we ride out to meet the stage.”

Daisy paused, frowning as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Uh, okay?” she said uncertainly. Over the rim of her mug, Bobbi watched Nathaniel’s head snap in their direction.

“The marshal’s coming in today,” Mack said, picking up his fork. “So we can clear up this rustling mess.”

Bobbi glared at her (delicious) coffee and didn’t respond to Daisy’s worried look. “But…” Daisy trailed off. “You’re really handing Hunter over?”

Mack shrugged expansively. “Unless the marshal thinks there’s reasonable doubt.” 

“I keep telling you, he wouldn’t do this,” Bobbi protested, and while the argument was an act, the words had enough truth behind them to hurt.

Daisy laid a hand on her arm. “You said the marshal’s a good man, maybe he’ll see a way clear.”

Bobbi nodded and fought against a triumphant smile as Nathaniel’s chair scraped back.

“Anyway, it’s best to get this over with sooner rather than later,” Mack said. “I’m sure he’ll consider all the evidence.” 

“Good luck,” Daisy said, patting Bobbi’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Bobbi said, trying her best to pick unhappily at her breakfast instead of shoveling it down. Nathaniel’s cronies seemed confused about the abrupt end of their meal but were obediently gathering their coats and hats as Nathaniel whispered instructions.

Mack dug into his meal, ignoring the commotion, and Bobbi watched the men clear out, slamming the café door behind them. “And Daisy,” Mack said, lowering his voice to its normal volume.

She stopped on her way to clear Nathaniel’s now-empty table. “Sheriff?”

“Come on by Elena’s sometime for dinner, would you? We should all catch up. It’s been a while.”

Daisy gave him an uncertain smile. “Sure.” She turned and began collecting dishes.

“That went well,” Mack to Bobbi muttered under his breath. “Now, let’s hope our luck holds.”

* * *

“You sure he’ll be here?” Mack said, shading his eyes with one hand.

The extra horse they’d brought, ostensibly for the marshal, was munching contentedly on the budding shrubs beside the creek.

“He’ll be here,” Bobbi said, patting the neck of her horse as he shifted restlessly under her.

“He’s here,” Hunter drawled, coming out of a familiar copse just down the bank. “I was starting to think you might not show.”

“Apparently, that wasn’t a choice,” Mack said dryly.

Hunter grinned, dimples winking in his clean-shaven cheeks. “Don’t worry, sheriff, you’ll get your bad guy.”

“We’d better get going,” Bobbi said. The clouds overhead were rapidly darkening. “Storm’s blowing in.”

“Makes for good cover,” Hunter said.

“Unlike the night you got caught,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “A full moon, Hunter, really?”

“We had to be able to see the brands!”

“Can we focus on the task at hand please?” Mack asked, exasperated.

“I don’t think Mack appreciates you giving me rustling tips, Bob,” Hunter said, stroking his borrowed horse’s nose before swinging into the saddle.

Mack turned his horse’s head back toward town, stopping for a moment beside Bobbi. “Last chance to stick him back in the cell.”

“Tempting, but I’ll pass,” Bobbi said.

Sighing, Mack shook his head. “Meet you back at Elena’s.” His horse took off at an easy trot, shrinking into the distance. 

“Everything alright?” Hunter said, coming to a halt on Bobbi’s other side.

She reached out and he took her hand. “Checking the tree?” she asked.

“Still there,” he said, squeezing her fingers before letting go.

The ache in her heart eased a little more. They hadn’t been out here for a long time, but knowing he’d cared enough the check on their initials, carved deep in a cottonweed tree next to the spot where they spent so many lazy summer afternoons, gave her hope they had a future.

Well, once they proved Hunter wasn’t the accused felon everyone thought he was.

“Ready?” she asked, urging her horse forward.

“You think they’re still on the summer range?” he asked, riding alongside her. He tugged the brim of his hat down low as the wind picked up.

“He hasn’t had time to move them far,” Bobbi said. She glanced over. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Not bad.” He looked relaxed enough, even if he wasn’t using his left arm much.

“Can you shoot?”

He leveled a look at her. “Are we planning on getting in a gunfight?”

“I never plan one,” she said. “But you attract trouble.”

Hunter laughed, the sound rich and deep. “You know, that’s what Idaho called you.”

“Wonder where he got that idea?”

“No idea,” Hunter said, his tone all false innocence. “Since I always told him you were a perfect angel. Or used to tell him.”

She could see the sorrow settling into his posture, his back rounding under an invisible weight. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“No, you’re right, it was reckless and stupid.” He stared out at the mountains, the tops shrouded in gray.

“Hey,” she said softly, waiting until he turned to look at her. “He didn’t deserve to die, and when we get our proof, Ward’s going down with Garrett. I can’t change what happened, but we can clear your friend’s name.”

He nodded, then went back to staring at the mountains. He rolled his injured shoulder like he was testing it. “I can shoot.”

A raindrop bounced off Bobbi’s hand and she glanced up at the leaden sky. “Looks like it’s going to be a soaker.”

“Perfect timing,” Hunter said, pushing his horse to move a little faster. “They won’t expect anyone out there.”

“Hunter,” she said. “Promise you’ll let me deal with Garrett and Ward my way.”

“You mean no duels on main street?” His eyes were shadowed under the brim of his hat, but his lips curved upwards.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“I promise, Bob.”

“Thank you.”

The rain began to come down in earnest, and Bobbi pulled up the collar of her duster, resigning herself to a long, wet slog through the foothills looking for Garrett’s cattle. At least she was in good company.

Beside her, Hunter turned up his own collar. “Idaho was right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I do love trouble.”

* * *

The steady drizzle had turned into a downpour that hid the mountains, and most everything else, from view. It was the sort of rain Bobbi preferred watching through a window with a hot cup of coffee in her hand, not seeping through her clothes, but nature couldn’t have provided better cover.

Hunter slouched comfortably in his saddle beside her, and they took turns ranging out to check their position. The pounding rain made it impossible to carry on a conversation, but they’d always been good at communicating without words. Marking time when the sky was a uniform dull grey was just as difficult, but it didn’t matter much. The marshal wasn’t going anywhere without Hunter, and Bobbi wasn’t handing over her husband before doing everything in her power to clear this mess up.

Water dripped off the brim of her hat and she wiped at her face with a gloved hand, feeling damp down to her bones. Up ahead, Hunter wheeled his horse around and headed her way, moving faster than she’d seen all day. Straightening up, she encouraged her horse to pick up the pace, meeting him halfway.

He reined his horse in alongside her and leaned halfway out of the saddle, his mouth close to her ear. “Up ahead to the left,” he said, satisfaction coloring his words. “We found them.”

Jerking his head at her to follow, he urged his horse to climb an embankment and she did the same. Rain fell in sheets on the valley below, blown by the wind. Visibility wasn’t great, but she could make out scattered clumps of cattle huddling together to ride out the storm. And, more importantly, she could see the glow of a distant cookfire that told her exactly where all the cowboys were. No one would be out in this weather that didn’t have to be.

They headed for a nearby stand of stunted pines and Bobbi slid off her horse, grateful to be even a little sheltered from the pelting rain. She gave her horse a pat, looping his reins around a sturdy branch, and made a mental note to slip Robbie a little extra for the stabling fees this week before retrieving her rifle.

She joined Hunter at the treeline and silently took his hand as he stared down at the range where his friend had died. Where Hunter had nearly died. Her fingers were numb, but the press of his palm against hers was a comfort.

“Don’t suppose you’ll agree to wait here,” he asked resignedly.

“You’d suppose right,” she said.

“Bob-”

“You’re not going down there alone,” she said firmly.

He heaved a sigh. “Fine, but we stick together.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said.

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “Then let’s go.”

They picked their way through the boulders and scrub brush down to the valley floor, half walking, half slipping in the fresh mud. Bobbi kept her eyes trained on the distant fire, watching for any movement, her hand tight around the rifle and followed the tense line of Hunter’s back toward the nearest group of cattle.

The closer they got, the slower he walked, and Bobbi grit her teeth to keep from hurrying him along. She knew just enough about ranching to be wary of the big animals, but Hunter seemed at ease. He changed the angle of their approach a few times while she dogged his footsteps, the rainfall masking the noise of the restless cattle as well as their presence from Garrett’s cowboys. 

There couldn’t be many of them, and if Garrett had taken the bait they’d set up this morning with Nathaniel, he’d be on his way to intercept the stage. The man never could stand coming in second to anyone, no matter how much cheating he had to do to make sure he was first.

“There,” Hunter murmured, pulling up short. Bobbi stopped beside him, watching a couple of cows regard them suspiciously before turning to huddle with the others. Their hides were mottled with rain, but the fresh brands stood out even to her. She squinted at them through the driving rain and smiled grimly.

Well, pieces of the brands were fresh, but the added curve of Garrett’s Double Bar G didn’t hide the fact that these brands certainly weren’t his usual style. He preferred a little added flair, and the stark, straight lines of the original H’s stood out under the alterations.

Bobbi leaned into Hunter’s side, relief coursing through her. Even the rain seemed a little lighter.

The marshal couldn’t ignore this.

“Now do you believe me?” Hunter asked. 

She settled her head on his shoulder. “I always did.”


	7. A Shootout

“Mack!” Bobbi burst through the back door of the saloon, thrilled both to finally be out of the rain and to share what she and Hunter had found.

The trio of heads gathered around Elena’s broad kitchen table turned her way. Mack’s relieved smile told her they’d been waiting a while.

“You’re soaked to the skin!” Elena hurried over, the heavy fabric of her gauchos rustling in welcome. 

“That’s what happens when you ride through a rainstorm,” Hunter said, grinning as he leaned her rifle up against the wall. He’d taken Bobbi’s hand the moment they’d turned their horses back over to Robbie and hadn’t let go. Her fingertips were slowly warming, and despite the rain snaking under her collar, elation filled her.

Marshal Coulson nodded at her. “Deputy Morse. It’s been a while.” He took in Hunter as well, his gaze flitting to their entwined hands. “You must be her husband. I’m Marshal Coulson.” He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and the last bit of worry Bobbi was harboring trickled away.

“You found them?” Mack asked.

“We did,” she said.

“And?”

“And they’re dripping over my rug,” Elena said, shooing them toward the back stairs. “Let them change before they catch cold.”

“Elena!” Mack said.

“If you can’t tell she’s got something that clears Hunter, I’m declaring myself sheriff,” Elena shot back. “Go on,” she said, waving them ahead of her. 

Bobbi followed Hunter up the cramped back stairs, her hand clutching his tightly, and they let Elena usher them into one of her spare rooms.

“I’ll find you some things. Don’t move,” she ordered.

“Thanks, Elena,” Hunter said, pulling off his hat. Water spilled off the brim onto the floor and Elena narrowed her eyes.

“I’m still mad at you,” she warned, poking him in the chest. “And you owe the house five dollars.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Bobbi said.

“Bob-”

“It’s his debt, not yours,” Elena interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “Besides, I knew he was coming back.”

Guilt swooped through Bobbi’s stomach. “How?” she asked. “I didn’t even know.” Hunter’s grip on her hand tightened.

Elena’s expression softened. “You knew.” She smiled and bustled out before Bobbi could protest.

For a long moment, the room was filled with just the sound of water hitting the floor and Hunter’s steady breathing beside her. 

“You really thought I wasn’t coming home?” Hunter asked quietly.

Bobbi inhaled and let it out slowly before turning to face him. “I don’t know,” she said, finally letting go of his hand to concentrate on undoing the buttons of his duster. Her fingers were clumsy, and the material slick, but the way Hunter was favoring his shoulder told her he could use the help. “It was more I didn’t want to hope, I guess.”

He plucked her soaked hat off and tipped her chin up until she was looking him in the eye. “I wasn’t sure you’d have me, Bob, but I was always coming home.” 

He leaned in, the tip of his nose cold against hers, and carefully fitted their lips together. The kiss was soft and sweet, a reminder of where they’d begun, and Bobbi’s heart did a flip in her chest. She pushed his duster off his shoulders, mindful of his injury, and started on her own buttons. Hunter nipped at her lower lip and twisted a hand into her damp hair, making her whimper. She struggled with the last button, getting it undone just as he slipped his tongue in her mouth and pulled her flush against him.

“Here you are,” Elena said cheerfully.

Bobbi’s eyes popped open as Elena dropped a pile of clothes on the spartan single bed, and she reluctantly drew away from Hunter. “Thanks, Elena.”

“Don’t take too long.” She winked. “Or even Mack will get suspicious.”

Hunter slid his arm around Bobbi’s waist. “We’ll be quick.”

Elena smirked before closing the door and Bobbi found herself backed against the wall with Hunter’s mouth against her throat. “Quick?” she asked breathlessly.

“Slow later,” he promised, fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.

“I’m holding you to that,” she said, tugging on his belt buckle.

He groaned as her fingers wandered even lower. “You can hold whatever you want when we get home.”

A laugh escaped her, only to be cut off by the press of his lips as he kissed her, and she lost herself the feel of him under her fingertips. Slow could wait.

#

“Well,” Coulson sighed, leaning back in his chair. “This a sight more complicated than I expected.” He pointed at Hunter, his eyes narrowing, and Bobbi stiffened. “Who’d you say the cattle rightfully belong to?”

“I saw the brands too,” Bobbi interjected. “I can swear to it they were altered. I bet there’s running irons on Garrett’s ranch if you’re looking for more proof. Hunter didn’t-”

“Barbara,” Mack cut her off gently. “He’s not accusing anyone of anything.”

“Yet,” she grumbled under her breath, clutching her mug tightly.

Elena had served them coffee to chase away the chill, but Hunter had done that well enough upstairs. No one had said a word about the delay, which meant they more than likely knew exactly what she and Hunter had been up to. She supposed that should make her blush, but she’d never been much good at acting the part of a lady, and besides, it was best everyone knew exactly whose side she was on – her husband’s.

Next to her, Hunter settled a hand on her leg, the gentle pressure reminding her everyone gathered around was trying to help. She hoped.

“Isabelle Hartley,” he said to Coulson.

Coulson’s slow-growing smile threw Bobbi, even if it did seem like a good sign. “Up in Elko?” he asked.

Hunter nodded cautiously.

“Isn’t this a small world,” Coulson said. Elena topped off his coffee and he turned his smile on her. “Thank you, Elena. We’ll be getting out of your hair now that I’ve got the full picture.” He picked up his hat. “Not quite the simple last case I was promised, but retirement can wait a little longer.”

“You’re really hanging up your hat?” Mack asked.

“Just waiting on my replacement from back east,” Coulson said. “Since you keep turning me down.”

“Kind of fond of this town,” Mack replied as Elena took a seat next to him.

“Just the town?” she asked.

“And you,” he said, grinning at her.

Bobbi laced her fingers through Hunter’s. The incessant rattle of rain against the tin roof had lightened to barely a whisper, but she still felt waterlogged, despite the dry clothes. She was beyond ready to curl up in bed with her husband, secure in the knowledge no one would be coming to take him away. 

“We should-” she began

“Elena?” Flint stuck his head through the door. “The stage just got here, and we’ve got a visitor.”

“Garrett?” Bobbi asked, her shoulders tensing. Mack pushed back from the table with a frown on his face.

“No,” Flint said, sounding confused. “Why would he need a room?”

Hunter squeezed Bobbi’s hand. “A little jumpy there, Bob.”

“I just…” She took a breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. “He won’t come in easy.” They might have proof of Garrett’s lawbreaking, but arresting him was another issue entirely. He wasn’t the kind of man to go quietly, and he was bound to be nursing a grudge once he figured out he’d been sent on a wild goose chase.

“You never did like easy,” Hunter murmured, amusement coloring his voice.

“Lucky for you.” She nudged his knee with her own and stood, abandoning her lukewarm coffee. He tipped his head back to smile up at her and she leaned in to kiss him, her hand sliding through his hair. The damp had brought out his curls and she wrapped one around her finger, tugging gently. Maybe she could convince him to delay a haircut for a while.

“We should get on over to the sheriff’s office,” Mack said as everyone gathered their things. “Davis and Piper have been babysitting an empty cell all day.”

“They any good?” Coulson asked, slipping on a well-worn duster.

“Stop trying to poach my deputies,” Mack said without heat. He pulled the kitchen door open for Elena and the rest of them followed her out into the saloon. The place was quiet, a lull before the bustle of the evening crowd ready for drinks and a hot meal, with a side of cards.

A bespectacled man with a mop of sandy blond hair and wearing a stiff, three-piece suit was standing at the bar with a brown-paper wrapped package in his arms, chatting with Elena.

“I’ll see you at home,” Bobbi said absently to Hunter, peering out the front windows. Watery sunlight was spilling through the glass, but the stage blocked her view of the sheriff’s office.

Hunter frowned. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” She shook her head. “No, Hunter, you’re supposed to be in jail.”

“And here’s your chance to put me back in it,” he said, settling his hat on his head.

She put her hands on her hips. “You are not going out there.”

“Why the hell not? We’re clearing my name, aren’t we?”

“You’re hurt,” she hissed, her hand hovering over his shoulder. “And-” She swallowed, the words sticking in her throat.

His face clouded over. “And what, Barbara, because I don’t have some tin star on my chest, I’m not good enough?”

“No!” she blurted out. “No, I…Garrett tried to kill you twice already, Lance. Please.” She straightened the collar of his borrowed shirt, her fingers shaking. “Please,” she said, lowering her voice. “I need to know you’re safe.”

Eyes softening, he took her hand. “Bob-”

Someone cleared their throat nearby. “Excuse me, Miss Deputy?” a man with a Scottish lilt asked.

Bobbi shook away her fears and straightened her shoulders before turning to greet the newcomer. “Yes?”

Over his shoulder, Elena excitedly mouthed something and Bobbi frowned, trying to work out what she was saying.

“I need Miss Jemma Simmons. I mean, I have something she needs. Or rather, a package for her.” He stopped, his cheeks flushed, and Hunter coughed to cover up his laughter.

“You’re looking for Jemma?” Bobbi asked. She eyed the parcel he was carrying. It was just about the right size for a clock. “You must be Leopold Fitz.”

His eyes went wide. “How did you-”

“This is the fellow from St. Louis?” Hunter asked, not bothering to hide his grin. “She’s definitely going to forgive me.”

Bobbi elbowed him as Fitz’s face reddened further. “She’s just down the road in the blue cottage with the garden out front. You can’t miss it.”

He perked up again. “Thanks very much.”

“Deputy Morse,” Mack called. The sound of steady hoofbeats reached her ears. “We’ve got company.”

A half dozen horses came to a halt in front of the sheriff’s office and the men all dismounted, swarming up the stairs. She picked out Garrett’s hat before he disappeared behind the damn stage.

“I have to go,” she said. “Hunter-”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I’ll stay here.”

Relief filled her. “Thank you.” She kissed him quickly and headed for the front doors, following Mack onto the wooden walkway in front of the saloon.

“Ready?” Mack asked as she stopped beside him. His shoulders were tense. Coulson stood on his other side, leaning against a porch post and watching the scene across the street. Several men were crowded in front of the sheriff’s office. She recognized a few of them from Garrett’s ranch, though the rancher himself must have gone inside.

There was a commotion by the front door, and Piper and Davis emerged with Garrett and Nathaniel close behind. It took Bobbi a moment to see the guns tucked up against their backs. 

“Mack,” she said, dropping her hand to her holster. Mack put out an arm to stop her, then pointed to the other side of the stage. She nodded and edged in that direction. Coulson was no longer lounging, his gaze sharp and his back ramrod straight.

“Sheriff!” Garrett yelled, forcing Davis to descend the stairs into the muddy street. “Where is he?”

“Who?” Mack asked, casually stepping down as well.

“You know who,” Garrett snarled. “The cattle rustler I handed you. The one in cahoots with your deputy. Marshal, I don’t know what he’d told you but-”

“Some new information’s come to light,” Coulson said.

“It’s a lie!” Garrett exclaimed.

“Haven’t said what it is, yet,” Coulson said mildly.

Bobbi moved behind the stage and began to circle around the other side, her grip tight on the handle of her gun. She didn’t dare draw it and set Garrett off, not when he had hostages.

“We just want to talk,” Mack said, slowly walking toward Garrett, his hands outstretched to show they were empty. Bobbi patted the horses, keeping them calm as she slipped past. The crowd on the porch looked uneasy, but none of them had drawn their guns just yet. She wasn’t sure if that was because Garrett hadn’t ordered them to, or in deference to Mack. She hoped it was the latter.

From the mutinous expression on Piper’s face, she was on the brink of starting a fistfight with Nathaniel, which, while probably not the safest choice, definitely would keep him occupied. Bobbi stuck close to the horses, relying on their restless movement to keep from being noticed, and paused just before leaving the cover the stage provided her. Mack and Coulson were almost halfway across the street and Garrett was still spouting off about his innocence, thought the gun he had jammed against Davis’s kidney sure said otherwise.

As quiet as she could, Bobbi started to ease her gun out of the holster when the click of a hammer being pulled back captured all her attention. Steel pressed against the nape of her neck, and she froze.

“Hands where I can see them,” Ward bit out.

“Alright,” she said, straining to keep her voice low and even. “Let’s not do anything stupid.” Her pulse pounding, Bobbi slowly lifted her hands and Ward moved the barrel to press against her spine.

“Like you’re one to talk,” he snarled. “Move.”

John Garrett smiled triumphantly, and Mack whirled around as Ward prodded her into the middle of the street.

“You don’t want to do this, John,” Mack said.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, his eyes wild. “Now where the hell is that criminal husband of hers?”

Bobbi lifted her chin. “Hunter’s gone.”

Ward dug his pistol into her back, and she clenched her jaw to keep from wincing. She let him nudge her toward Garrett and Davis, moving as slowly as she dared.

“Where?” Ward spat.

“No idea,” she said. “You know how he is.”

“Boss,” Ward said grimly.

Garrett shook his head. “I didn’t want it to come to this, Mack,” he said, all false sympathy.

“Let’s not do anything rash,” Coulson said. “There’s an awful lot of witnesses here, John.”

Garrett’s men on the porch were all shifting uneasily with their guns in their hands, seemingly unsure about where to point them.

The creak of the stagecoach wheels startled everyone, and Piper yanked her arm out of Nathaniel’s grasp, shoving him back just as a shot rang out. The world went completely still. Bobbi's whole body tensed, but the gun barrel against her back had disappeared. Whirling around, she yanked her gun out of her holster only to find Ward rolling in the mud and clutching his shoulder. Splashes of bright red blood painted his fingers and his face was contorted in pain. A couple more shots went off and she dropped to a crouch, trying to stay out of the line of fire.

“Hold your fire!” Coulson shouted.

“Drop it, Garrett!” Mack yelled. Both he and Coulson had pulled their guns and Garrett was staring at Ward with a confused expression on his face. The men behind him were all scrambling away, their hands in the air, and Piper grabbed Davis, pulling him out of the fray.

Coulson moved quicker than Bobbi expected, grabbing the gun from Garrett before he could recover his wits.

Mack was beside her a moment later, kicking away Ward’s guns as he lay writhing on the ground. “You okay?” he asked.

“How did you-?

“Bob!” Hunter shouted, leaping down the front steps of Elena’s saloon into the muddy street, her rifle in his hands. “Bob,” he repeated, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Christ,” he exhaled, holding her tight.

She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and breathed him in. Under the scent of horse and rainwater was a hint of roses, and she focused on it, her tension draining away. She should have known he would have her back, even when she’d tried to keep him out of the fight.

“Good shot,” she murmured against his throat.

He kissed her temple. “See how he likes it.”

Bobbi huffed out a laugh. “You keep this up, I might have to get you a badge.”

“And here I thought you were finally learning to appreciate my outlaw ways.” 

“Bobbi!” a frantic voice called.

Pulling away from Hunter, Bobbi spotted Jemma rushing along the wooden boardwalk, her medical bag in her hand.

“Are you hurt?” Jemma asked.

“I’m fine. It’s Ward,” Bobbi called back.

The man in question groaned as Mack prodded him with the toe of his boot. “He’ll live.”

“Jemma!” Elena caught her before she could step into the street, and for the first time, Bobbi noticed that Leo Fitz was crouched under one of the saloon’s front window, clutching the package he’d brought.

Her heart leaped into her throat and she grabbed Hunter’s hand, leaving Mack to stand guard over Ward. “Fitz?” Bobbi called.

The blood drained from Jemma’s face. “Leo Fitz?” she asked. She dropped down on the porch beside him. “Are you hurt?”

Fitz slowly uncurled, his eyes wide. “They shot it,” he said hoarsely.

“Where?” Jemma asked, frantically tugging his jacket open to reveal a pristine white shirt. “Where are you hit?”

Fitz stared at her a moment, seemingly tongue-tied. “No, I…your clock,” he said.

Hunter hastily tucked the rifle behind his back. “It wasn’t me,” he said.

“Oh,” Jemma said, a smile blooming on her face. “You brought me my clock?”

Bobbi turned away to hide her grin. Cupping Hunter’s face in her hands, she kissed him properly, reveling in the taste of heat and coffee. “Remind me to show you just how much I appreciate you later, my husband,” she murmured.

He smoothed a hand down her spine, his touch lingering over the spots Ward’s gun had dug into. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” she said softly.

“Come home soon,” he said, shouldering the rifle. “I’ve got some time to make up for.” He gave the badge pinned on her shirt a little tug. “You can leave this on.”

She muffled a laugh against his mouth, warmth curling through her chest.

 _Home_.


	8. A Beginning

_Two days later_

“How are they holding up?” Mack asked as Coulson locked the sturdy door leading to the cell.

“I think Garrett’s lucky Ward’s only got the use of one arm,” Coulson said.

“Still complaining, huh?”

“Wants a lawyer.” Coulson shrugged. “He can get one in Carson City.”

“You heading that way soon?”

“Doc Simmons said Ward’s fine to travel, so we’ll leave tomorrow. Think you might spare one of your deputies for the trip?”

“Piper and Davis haven’t had any luck tracking Nathaniel so far,” Bobbi said, leaning back in her chair. “They might like to join you.”

Mack frowned “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Nathaniel’s got contacts in California, he might have headed that way.”

“I promise to send them back,” Coulson said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“You better,” Mack said. “Hard to find good help these days.”

The door to the sheriff’s office stood open, letting in the spring breeze. Outside, folks were enjoying the afternoon sunshine and most likely a bit of gossip, given the events of the last few days. The only traces of the gunfight were the deep wagon ruts in the dried mud in front of Elena’s place.

“Speaking of traveling,” Coulson said. “I’ll wire a friend of mine in San Francisco and make sure Daisy’s sister gets that train ticket Nathaniel was holding over her head.”

“Much obliged,” Mack said. “I should have known something was wrong. If she’d just told me about Kora, we could have helped.”

“Nathaniel’s a piece of work,” Bobbi grumbled. “We should have run him out of town when he stole the mayoral election. You know he’ll pop up somewhere and start blackmailing people again.”

“We’ll find him,” Coulson said confidently.

Bobbi finished reading through to the end of her statement and signed it with a flourish. “There you go,” she said, folding it up and stuffing it in an envelope. “Everything you should need from me and Hunter.”

“Tell him thanks,” Coulson said.

“I’m not sure he’ll believe it, but I will,” she said, giving him a smile.

“Bob!” Hunter mounted the steps outside the sheriff’s office.

“Speak of the devil,” Mack muttered.

Bobbi pretended not to hear him. “Hey,” she said to Hunter. “I’m just about done.”

“Excellent,” he said, leaning across her desk for a kiss. The clean scent of roses and bay rum sent a thrill down her spine. “I’ve got plans for tonight, but first, you’ll never believe who’s turned up.”

“Izzy!” Coulson exclaimed.

“Hello, Marshal.” A striking woman with sun-lightened chestnut hair strode through the door. “Heard you found my cattle.”

“Actually, it was those two,” Coulson said, gesturing at Hunter and Bobbi.

Isabelle Hartley turned her warm smile in their direction, and Bobbi found herself smiling back. The woman’s well-worn boots and battered hat were a stark contrast to Garrett’s shop-window cowboy attire. She could see why Hunter liked her.

“You must be Bobbi,” Izzy said.

“Yes ma’am.” She stood up and offered her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Izzy said, her handshake brief but firm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” A split second of panic flashed across Hunter’s face and she smirked at him. “Glad you two figured things out, though it was nice having some reliable help.”

“You’ve got plenty,” Hunter grumbled.

“Still, we’ll miss you,” she said. “And Idaho.”

“I’m sorry about him.” Bobbi clasped Hunter’s hand.

Izzy nodded solemnly. “Me too. But that’s not entirely why I’m here.” 

“It’s not?”

“Brought a little law of my own,” she said, gesturing across the street at Elena’s.

“More?” Hunter groaned. Bobbi poked him with her elbow.

“Your letter arrived at the same time as your replacement, Coulson,” Izzy said.

“Melinda’s here?” Coulson asked, smoothing his shirtfront.

“She thought you might need some help with this mess,” Izzy said. “But it sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

“I’ve got two prisoners to escort back to Carson City,” he said. “The company would be appreciated.” 

“You really retiring?” Izzy asked, sounding skeptical.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Coulson said. “Maybe I’m interested in trying my hand at something different.”

“Might be a ranch for sale out here soon,” Mack remarked casually.

“Heard this is a pretty nice town,” Coulson said, settling his hat on his head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Come on Iz, let me show you and Mel around. There’s a café here with the best food for a hundred miles, at least.”

“We’re heading out, too,” Hunter tugged Bobbi toward the door.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” Mack sighed.

“Thanks, Mack.” Bobbi flashed him a smile and followed Hunter out the door into the bright sunshine. “Home?” she asked.

“Home,” he confirmed.

* * *

Their little whitewashed house on the edge of town looked a lot less lonely with Hunter by her side. Their neglected garden was overdue for cultivating, but she could remind him of that later. They walked side by side in comfortable silence, their joined hands swinging between them.

“Sorry it took so long to move the cattle down from the summer range,” he said. “I was hoping to be back last night.”

“We were busy with this whole Garrett mess anyway,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But I’m glad you’re back now.”

“You sure?”

She paused, turning to gauge his mood, but he looked entirely serious. “Hunter, I can’t promise things will be perfect, but I can promise I’ll always want you here.”

He smiled wide enough to show off his dimples. “Good.”

They mounted the porch steps and he tugged her to a stop just outside their front door. “Hang on,” he said. “Wait here.” 

“You didn’t flood the kitchen again, did you?”

Laughing, he opened the front door, then returned to her side. “Without you? Never. Just wanted to start things off right this time.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and Bobbi let out a startled yelp as he bent to scoop her up. “Lance! What are you doing?”

“No wiggling,” he said sternly. “I’m hurt, you know.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said fondly, hanging onto his uninjured shoulder as he stepped over the threshold into their house. 

Hunter set her down again, a proud grin on his face, and Lance the cat went streaking past on his way outside. “Looks like it’s just the two of us,” he said, swinging the door closed.

“How’s your shoulder?” Bobbi gently rubbed his wounded arm and steering him toward the sofa.

“I’m fine, there’s no need to fuss.” He collapsed on the sofa, pulling her down with him, but she didn’t miss his wince.

She plucked his hat off and tossed it aside, then smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven cheek. “Maybe I want to fuss a little. So, what are these plans of yours?” Straddling his lap, she began working on his shirt buttons so she could check his bandages.

“Pretty much this,” he admitted, leaning back and surrendering to her ministrations.

“Just what I was hoping for.” Pulling his shirt open, she frowned at his injury. The bandages were clean, and the knot of worry between her shoulders loosened. “You’re alright,” she said, relieved.

“Better now,” he rumbled, unbuckling her gunbelt and letting it thump to the floor.

“No more getting yourself shot,” she said sternly. “Even if it’s for a good cause.” She trailed her fingers down his chest and he let out a contented sigh, grasping her hand before it wandered lower.

“I’ll do my best, Deputy Morse.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Can’t promise I’ll ever be anything close to perfect.”

She leaned in to brush a featherlight kiss across his lips. “I’d rather have you.”

“You’ve got me.” He pressed their joined hands against his chest. “I’m afraid it might be permanent.”

Feathering kisses across his jaw and along his throat, she slowly made her way down to plant one over his heart. “Good thing we made it legal.”

He laughed, his head dropping back against the sofa cushions. The sound filled their sitting room just like she remembered, but the sight of it was even better. “For you, my darling wife, I’ll even walk the straight and narrow.”

She nipped as his earlobe as he tackled the buttons of her shirt. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

**Author's Note:**

> I may have watched way too many Westerns over the years. Thanks for reading! I'm on tumblr @robotgort


End file.
